heartless
by clangwee
Summary: When he had an eternity, she had a deadline. AU-ish. For Caryn.
1. Chapter 1

Written for Caryn.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing here, tbh. I'm a failure. I'm sorry. Do tell me what you think though.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

When he had an eternity, she had a deadline.

Her heart, you see— A fistful of muscle and blood and it just so happened that hers came with a hole in it.

_Poor g_irl, the physician said, _wouldn't live for a day_.

But the tiny one's a fighter—grows up to live as a handsome young lady and at the age seventeen, is set to wed the first bloke who proposed. Father and mother, a prudent pair they are and so very much eager to marry the sickly daughter out of the family the soonest they could_._

It's the late 14th century then and whilst Niklaus tire of his vow of revenge in Bulgaria, the invitation falls on his lap. Silly humans and their silly human traditions… _His vacation_, it seems, how pathetic was that? But the human is valuable to business, and something about English women with their tea-flavored blood reminds him of home.

And so a week later, he arrives as a guest to the betrothed's home but the Original is more surprised of the girl who took residence in his mind.

"Do you want to play a game?" Is the first words Caroline Forbes spoke to him in a dark, dusty corner of the mansion's library, a few days before the ceremony. It isn't hard to recognize the fetching bride-to-be with her sunshine gold curls and her sky blue eyes but her back is on him and his is on her as they were facing opposite shelves. Still, he doesn't miss the erratic beating of her human heart which struck him somewhat as a beautiful anomaly among the sea of monotony.

"It's a simple game, really. Just a game of dares." She continues when he doesn't respond, taking his silence as a sign of interest. "So will you play?"

"I don't know. Will I?" He answers noncommittally without as much as a glance, tracing the spines of the books with his fingertip.

A quick wisp of wind signals she turned her head to his direction "You will."

He doesn't hold back the grin that curls on his lips. "And why is that?"

"Because you're different."

Really now, sweetheart? This coming from the girl who rolled her eyes at her beau and bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh during the eucharistic service. Who stuck her tongue out at the court ladies and snuck away for a horse ride at midnight… For someone with one foot on the grave, the girl had fire. She's unrepentantly playful and clever, and to cage such pulchritude and let it expire within these walls… As an artist, he thinks it's hardly poetic justice.

Turning on his heel to face her, he crosses his arms, and leans back on the shelf. His knowing smirk says it all.

"Then I'll go first." She spoke a bit somberly, her voice falling into a whisper. "I dare you to save me from this marriage."

* * *

The urge to scoff is almost tempting. These silly humans and their silly human problems—

But he's intruiged by this girl. Awfully so.

"I mean… I heard you've been to places, Lord Mikaelson. Mayhaps just for a while I—" She pauses only to contain the rush of excitement in her tiny frail voice. "That is, you know, besides the fact that I think my fiance probably fancies another… _A man_, can you believe that? But… I've never been to anywhere and I think I want to see the world first, if I can."

He watches her string the words as if they could lengthen her punctuated life. Still, being an immortal and having the means to give it, sometimes he couldn't help but to play God.

"Oh I'm sorry, what was I saying? Forget it, will you? I think my sanity has—"

"Done." He says simply and her gorgeous blue ones spark with wonder. "Consider it done."

* * *

When her husband-to-be declares his undying love for the duke in front of the whole family the day before the wedding (which was subsequently called off), she isn't surprised.

Yet she never saw Lord Mikaelson again. No one has.

A week later, Caroline Forbes almost succumbs to an illness. And in a feverish haze, she vaguely recognizes the familiar sultry voice whispering in her ear.

"The game isn't over, love."

He dares her not to die and she doesn't.

* * *

He watches her wrap her dainty fingers around the man's throat, her thumb circling on the base as her eyes locked lustfully with her prey's helpless gaze. This is a fairly easy dare but nonetheless the chap was a goner the moment Caroline picked up on the chamomile on his breath, in his blood when he entered the bar. It is her favorite.

And as she sinks her fangs on the lad's throat—an almost perfect juxtaposition of beauty and brutality, life and death—he knows he is right—

Eternity suits her.

* * *

For three centuries, they massacre entire villages and reduce cities to dust.

It frustrates Elijah and annoys Rebekah to no end, this childish game they both couldn't seem to stop playing. But she says she want to devour everything the world has to offer and they will do just that.

Kol is amused at least but makes a mistake of calling her his pet. It would cost him a whole decade, that loose tongue of his.

Caroline's not his _pet_. She's more than that. She's ruthless and brave but at the same time, she's warm and fun, loyal and kind. Something about this girl that makes him want to please her in every way. Niklaus hardly pleases himself but if ever she asked, he would bleed the earth to darkness if only to sustain her singular light.

A companion, a friend… Call it what you will.

He made her.

She is _his_.

* * *

Sometimes she gives this little dares.

A quiet stroll in a vineyard in Santorini, a slow dance in a deserted hallway in Westminster Abbey… Tonight he carries her on a piggyback ascending the sandstone steps of Odessa and right at the top, she turns to him with a smile that always says too much.

"Okay, your turn."

Sometimes he wonders if she know how her eyes scream, what her every movement gives away. Klaus isn't unfamiliar to looks of adulation but rarely does one _puncture—_

And it bloody frightens him.

You see, people… They let you get used to their presence, to need, to _crave_ but in the end they are all just waiting for you to commit a goddamn mistake before leaving without your permission, without even much a glance back.

And for eight hundred years, he has never allowed himself to get close. He built his defenses and kept everyone away at an arms length because the thing about Niklaus is he's bound err from time to time _sorry, love, a broken man, truly he is. Always has been—_

He would blow up, he would lash out. It would _hurt s_o please, sweetheart, _don't_.

It's not worth it.

We have a good thing going from where we stand.

Let's keep it that way.

"Klaus." His name rolls out like velvet from her tongue. "Your dare?"

She would have to step back, he would have to pull away if only he could keep her a little bit longer.

"Kla—"

"You don't fall in love." _With me, _he doesn't say.

Caroline stills then, the blood pooling on her cheeks. Stolen moments like these are when he sees her the most human, her heart on her sleeve and a thousand emotions running in her eyes. But she gets it. Smart girl, that one, and finally she bows her head in agreement.

"Your turn then." Klaus speaks after a beat, a dimpled grin painting his face before he descends the steps.

She stays put and, with a held breath, watches his retreating back, the distance growing farther between them.

She follows him in a few moment.

* * *

1901 is the beginning of the end.

In January, Caroline travels to Russia without him, as per her dare, to watch Chekhov's The Three sisters.

February, March, April and May, she doesn't come back. Though Klaus merely shrugs when Rebekah begins to ask.

June, he starts to wonder himself. It's unlike her to be away from him for more than a few months.

July, he receives a letter saying she'll be staying with friend until the next month. He ignores Elijah's knowing look when he scoffed at the word "friend" and went back to his meal. Lately he's been craving for blondes.

She doesn't come home in August. Or in September.

October, he turns up livid in Moscow but finds all his anger melting away the moment he sees the smile on her face. For five centuries, he has never seen her that happy.

See, Caroline, she met a _man_—

With a heart that's flawed, just like hers once, beating a nostalgic broken tune in her ears, and a death sentence hanging around his head.

He wears his humanity on his skin. He lives everyday like there's no tomorrow. He gives his affections without apology, even after she tried to bite him. Either that makes him brave or sizably foolish, he doesn't care.

He holds her hand in his when they take a stroll and he doesn't pull away when she gets too close. He carries her like a princess with his frail human body, without her needing to ask or dare, he kisses her like he doesn't need to breathe and when he calls her _love _and he means it.

When she embraced this new life, she was taught to cast herself away. To take a step back and draw a line. Us and them. Predator and prey. Monster and human.

Sometimes you have to forget, you _forgo_ emotions, to make the distinction stick and to keep the killing easier but him…. He gave it all back.

And she loves him.

November, she tells Klaus she's going to turn her lover.

In December, Klaus kills him.

* * *

"You broke your promise."

She doesn't answer, doesn't even spare him a glance, as she cleans the blood off her hands.

"You broke the dare. You said you won't fall in lo—" He stops abruptly as if the word burned his tongue.

"I wasn't aware that dare still applies." She speaks up after a beat, her voice flat and dull.

"You forget, love, we are immortals. Our little game runs without an expiration date."

"But the dare was meant only for you, wasn't it?' She lifts her eyes to meet his, the accusation almost deafening. "And I hate you, Klaus."

* * *

For two decades, the dares are put on hold to everyone's relief though for Klaus and Caroline, it's a alienating change. They tiptoe around one another, not knowing how to act or speak in each other's presence. It's _pathetic_ really how they came to the realization they don't really have a real relationship outside the game.

Caroline leaves often but doesn't stay away for long. It's a force of a habit after all this time spent together. She knows too that a big part of her would never really shake him away. A part of her that would always crave him. He made her. She is his and that is that.

By mid-1920s, an exasperated Rebekah drags them to a bar in Chicago called Gloria's. Most of the time, they spend drinking and watching the blonde flirt with random men until Klaus, in mumbling small voice you wouldn't believe belongs to the King of the vampire race, asks her to dance and suddenly, everything _stills_—

He holds her like she's made of porcelain. He smells of sandalwood and earth and somehow she grows to yearn for the lush gardens of her childhood home. His eyes are bluer than ever and she remembers looking at them as a human, reminding her of the limitless sky she will fly to and the vast seas she will sail and God, how she _misses_ him. The man she met at the library, an embodiment of possibilities and hope. The man who promised her eternity, who became her home for almost a thousand years.

She knows how he's been broken and battered by time and fate but if only he would let her be what he has always been for her then perhaps—

Her thoughts came to a staggering halt the moment she feels his lips on hers. It's soft and warm but with the alcohol buzzing and music thrumming it becomes hot and rough within moments. It all becomes blur after that but when the next morning she wakes up in his arms, his lips on her hair, fingers entwined with hers, and how her heart _swells _when he doesn't pull away…

She dares to hope.

* * *

The first day is a game of charades.

The second, a paradise.

But the third one is a tribulation.

The grasp he has on her wrist is so tight, she knows it would bruise if she were human. He drags her out the street, up to an empty alley after he flashed them both away from Gloria's. She isn't really certain what just happened. The spray of wooden bullets, the people screaming and _Mikael—_

She has only heard the name is passing. No one talks about him in the open, only in hushed whispers like it's some taboo word but by Klaus' horror stricken face, she understands they may have a better chance with running than choosing to face this mystery man.

"Klaus?"

No answer.

"Klaus? Where's Rebekah? We shouldn't have le—"

"Caroline, _shut up_."

And just like that she loses her voice, the words seeming to be stuck on her throat. He fucking compelled her! He hadn't compelled her before and he chose to do it now.

Her blood boils in realization but Klaus doesn't seem to mind. He's hell-bent to putting as much distance as he can from the whatever chaos ensuing in the bar, alternating from speeding to running for what seems like forever until they reach a house in the middle of nowhere.

Inside, Klaus starts pacing to and fro like a maniac, lost in his own world, all the while Caroline remains standing in the corner, anger etched in her pretty face.

He catches her eyes. "You can talk now, love."

"Where's Rebekah?"

"She's safe." He replies curtly but that's when she smells it. White oak ash. Of course she know it. After Finn, Kol and now—

"You daggered her." She murmurs, accusation evident in her tone.

He grows livid. "I'm protecting her!"

"You daggered your sister and you compelled me, you call that protecting?"

"You were being difficult!"

"And you're being an asshole!'

A flash of movement and suddenly he has her against the wall, his fingers around her throat. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

She meets his angry gaze head on and after a moment, he relents. Letting her go, she drops unceremoniously on the floor and he keeps his back on her, reining in his anger and concealing whatever emotions his eyes may give away. Sometimes she just wants to fucking pry his arms off. _Don't hide, Klaus, I see you. _But before you get even to close he keeps it all in and fold himself up. He tends do to that, you know, in frustrating consistency.

"Who's Mikael?" Caroline asks before she can stop herself and his back tenses infinitesimally. She really knows how to push his buttons, this girl. Most of the time, he likes the challenge but tonight… He almost lost her _tonight _so sweetheart, don't you bloody understand why he has to—

"No one you need to be concerned about."

"I want to help, Klaus, and I need to know. Don't you trust me?"

_More than anyone. _

He turns to face her. "I trust no one, Caroline."

"After all these years?" A dry laugh escapes her lips. "You know what, you don't even trust your own siblings so you daggered all of them. Too bad you can't dagger me, huh?"

"Maybe I'll just compel you again then?" He retorts and her temper flares at the memory.

"You wouldn't."

His face twists into a condescending smile. "And why is that?"

"Because I will hate you."

"And you think I care?" He takes a step toward her, hands on his back. "You already hate me, don't you?"

"Don't lie to me. You care. I know you do."

"I don't care, Caroline." _Push. _"I'm a monster." _Shove. "_I don't have a heart." _Fold._

Her eyes begin to water. "That's not true." She has seen it. Only in passing glimpses but she's seen it.

"Then find it, Caroline. Show me my heart." He takes a steps closer and towers over her whimpering form. "I dare you."

She can feel all their centuries slipping through the cracks of her fingers. They're standing nose to nose but he seems far away than ever before.

"Go." He gives her a shoulder a push with a palm of his hand, gentle and almost teasing but it did more damage than all of their fights combined. "And don't ever come back empty handed."

* * *

She never comes back.

* * *

***TBC***

**A/N:** Okay so don't worry. There will be a Part Two.

Sorry for the spelling mistakes, historical and grammatical errors. Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yes, this is indeed inspired by Jeux d'enfants. I'm effin in love with Marion and Guillame. I don't even know who I'm more jealous of.**

**Anyway I messed up the TVD timeline. I said in the first chapter that Klaus was wreaking his vengeance in Bulgaria during the 14th century but Katerina only met the originals in the mid-1500s so that's a thing. Nevertheless it's still compliant to canon with some tweaking here and there. Whatever. I make my canon, ha-ha.**

**This is dedicated to my lovely reviewers: flipped, Rianeliza, QuietFlightRisk, mrsl488, AAG2649, thexlittlexlisa, glevez25, jessnicole, chillwithJyl, Sadsunflowers, xForgottenxFlamex, klaroline4everlove, FluteNinjaEm, lily94, WaterFallOnTheFlame, Sad Olive and of course my lovelies lenina and erica!**

**Sorry for the long A/N. This is almost 4000 words of unbeta'd angst. Please be gentle.**

* * *

You think being an immortal would let everything just blur by. That you can outrun the whole world with your infinite years but one day suddenly the ground refuses to hold your stride and, like some rude awakening, you stagger back to a_ stop._

You feel all your assurances crumble like cracks on your heels, your legacies bend like your weakened legs. You see your centuries mark the earth behind you like raptures on the floor and yet the days ahead... They go on and on like a barren wasteland.

To Klaus this what it feels like. Time.

It leaves its wreckage of blank canvases and unused paint tubes, of dusty old rooms unoccupied and untouched. In most days, the curse and the doppelganger... They lose their appeal. Sometimes even Mikael doesn't seem at all that frightening. Eternity grows boring. Still. Quiet.

Too still that he could hear the grinding of his boneslike that of a withered man's, only biding his time.

Too quiet that he could feel his solitude reverberating in that vacant space inside his chest.

* * *

"You're losing your touch, Niklaus." A familiar voice speaks.

The chair opposite him is pulled out and pushed back, barely making a sound, and suddenly he feels an even more familiar gaze prickling his skin.

"Please Elijah, I saw you." Klaus looks up from his breakfast with a jagged smile to the speaker in seating in front of him. "You stick out like a sore thumb here in Brooklyn."

Indeed, he spotted the older original even before he entered the local diner with his stiff black suit and the usual British air. The years hadn't seem to change him a bit, always insisting to be in his formal best, though at least the hair fared better as he opts the more laid back style of the nineties.

Said original only scoffs at his taunts "I was merely surprised not to be accosted by your usual lackeys."

"Well they are all _very_ _dead_, brother."

"Huh." mutters Elijah after a moment of contemplation. "How typical."

Klaus' grin grows wider at the disdain in his voice and plants his elbows on the table, feigning interest. "Really? How so?"

"Well for a man who demands nothing but utmost allegiance, you are awfully fickle with your loyalties, Niklaus." The older brother explains in the most casual tone, he could just be reading out the menu. "Or should I say you have none at all?"

_Of course,_ every one of these business meetings (as Elijah puts it) since the fallout in Chicago ends up with this vexing conversation. "I'm always loyal to our family. I'm keeping them safe. You can trust me on that."

"And yet you don't trust us?"

"Why? Still afraid I would stab you in the back?" Klaus shoots back nonchalantly.

They both know that's metaphorical as it is literal.

"I'm amazed you haven't yet." Elijah shrugs then.

"If I ever doubted you brother, you know very well we wouldn't be having this discussion." growls Klaus in defense. "And for as long as you don't cross me-"

"Some trust. You sure have a twisted way of showing it."

Elijah's brown eyes flash with contempt and as always Klaus responds with a threat.

"Tread lightly, brother."

And the older brother decides to keep his mouth shut, _good call_, beckoning a heavy silence to fall between them. It starts drizzling outside and as Elijah casually orders his black coffee, Klaus directs his gaze to the pitter-patter of the rain against the glass window. It helps to drown out the usual chatter of the patrons, the clinking of silverware... At the far end of the diner, a television comes to life, the headline news depicts another burning building from the city of Sarajevo.

Oh some humanity this is with their animated hearts, waging the most brutal wars, the most ruthless crimes against one another...

And yet you dare to hope for him, sweetheart? When has done far _worse?_

Right then, the older brother catches the look on his face. For the most part what Elijah sees is the mockery but his blue eyes-they always give away too much... They seem homesick and tired.

He catches Elijah looking at him with that same look they all reserved for him-

And it's so bloody suffocating.

"Niklaus-"

"Don't."

Push.

Shove.

Fold.

And as expected the older brother pulls back, sits a little straighter on his chair, and stares at him with a look far worse that hope-

_Pity._

"Such a hollow little life you lead, Niklaus."

* * *

At night he's a hundred miles up the Empire state and, with sketchbook in hand, hundreds more in every direction.

He feels colossal.

Can't you see, Elijah, how not _little _his life is_? _He's taller, he's bigger than all eyes can see and the whole world lies beneath his feet.

Not far away, a man lies limp and bleeding among a pile of bodies-Klaus crashed the party, you see- and stares at him in a soundless plea.

Look, brother, how they all eye him in fear.

With a devilish smirk, he's on the man in a flash.

The man yells.

Oh the screams... They fill in the silence of his days.

There's a sickening crack not a second later, bones breaking and organs crushing, and in the most beautiful sound, the bloodied man heaves his final breath. Blood fills the air and the wind begins to pick up, blowing his sketchbook open-

It remains empty.

* * *

_Goddamn you, I gave you life and you dare to desert me? Don't you fucking show your face again, sweetheart. Don't ever think of coming back else I'll tear you limb by limb and let burn you to the sun piece by piece. I'll drain your blood until your warm eyes go cold and blank. I'll pull your tongue out, your raspberry lips until you couldn't scream and lie. I'll rip your heart out just like you're ripping mine-_

* * *

In his Spanish home befalls another soundless night. It's cold and serene, almost as if the darkness, the whole world fell asleep. Klaus is awake but he feels he isn't alone. A lone light flickers in his living room casting misshapen shadows along the walls. On the hallway, he tries to walk in the gentlest, most cautious of steps but the floor cries in his every stride as if to announce his very presence.

"Niklaus."

The hairs on his back stood as he sees an unexpected guest rested on his red wine chesterfield, face painted with that familiar jeering smile.

"Don't fret, boy." Mikael's low voice resounds through the night. "I'm not here to kill you."

Yet it's exactly what the Mikaelson patriarch wants, catching him off guard and seeing him tremble with fear. But a thousand years has taught the bastard son never to show trepidation, to fight fire with fire and so with a nonchalant scoff, Klaus mirrors the condescension by his own haughty grin.

"Then pray tell, _dear father_, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mikael lets out a lyrical laugh, crossing his legs comfortably on his seat. "Oh I was just visiting. Logroño is a favorite after all. Did you know I personally burned more than a dozen witches here during the Inquisition?"

Not one to be intimidated, Klaus merely shrugs.

"Somehow I find that unsurprising as it is uninteresting." He murmurs, plopping down the couch opposite the stepfather who narrows his eyes, obviously not at all happy at his dismissal. "Oh _come on_, we both know you didn't just come here to tell me that."

"Ah ah Niklaus, always so impatient." muses Mikael. "At least Elijah's been more agreeable. He takes after his father after all."

Klaus' lips curl almost imperceptibly. Has Elijah betrayed him? Already?

Mikael watches him in silence, waiting for his suggestive words to bear down on him yet the boy refuses to show emotion and keeps his face stoic.

"Well then, I suppose I should get to the point then." The elder continues after a dramatic pause. "I'm actually here to tell you about a fetching blonde I met in one of my travels... In St. Petersburg to be exact."

This time a ripple of panic dares to mar his face. Infinitesimal but not small enough to be concealed from Mikael's preying eyes.

"She was kind enough to help a stranger find his way through the Hermitage. Oh lovely girl, knows the place like the back of her hand... And she definitely has a lot to say about one painter in particular." Eyes shining with amusement, Mikael springs up to his feet and to the window. "What? You didn't think I wouldn't know about your little pet did you?"

Back arched, fingers laced together, Klaus doesn't even realize he has leaned on his knees, ready to lunge.

"Oh relax, _Caroline_ hadn't told me anything I don't already know about."

Her name sounded like a curse word coming from his tongue.

"Wouldn't say a word even if I tried. I'm not surprised. I can tell there's not a traitorous bone in that girl's body, if you of all people managed to kept her for that long."

"She's not..." _With me anymore. I let her go. Don't come after her._ He struggles to find the right words. Something to bait Mikael's attentions away from Caroline. Something that wouldn't outright say what she means... to him.

"I know." Mikael supplies then with a hint of a laugh. "They all leave you at some point, don't they? People like her... They always better off-"

"Hurt her and I will end you." Klaus growls not able to rein his anger any longer but Mikael only laughs.

"Oh you wound me, boy. I wouldn't touch a hair on her. To be perfectly honest, killing her is the last thing I want to do."

And there's something about his smile as he registers the mild relief and surprise on Klaus' face that says this is exactly what he wants. This is Mikael's plan after all.

To have Klaus in his debt.

_She lives only because I didn't kill her. _

_You're only alive tonight because I let you._

The realization leaves a bitter taste in Klaus' mouth but it is Mikael's last words that do him in.

"Because one day, you'll end her yourself."

* * *

_Oh, you beautiful fool._

He should have known.

She frequents Russia like a favorite childhood memory, a home away from home. She lives for its rum-laced tea, the stackable wooden dolls, the ballet, the Romanovs, Dostoevsky, Eisenstein, the Hermitage...

In one of its white walls hangs a painting of a majestic wolf howling among the war ruins. _El Conquistador_, it's called, an old acquisition of Catherine the great. Rumor has it that the queen was utterly enchanted not only by the tragic charm of the work but also of the 'handsome Londoner painter and his lovely wife' who presented it to her as a gift in 1778.

1888, a hundred years later, the 'painter and his wife' sat in front of the very painting, laughing at that little story they concocted. Until now, Klaus has that scene embedded in his mind. Him appraising his work, studying the imperfections he's only seen then. He was telling Caroline something about painting his centuries in a canvas. Monsters don't only spawn darkness, he's also leaves a mark to the world with beauty and art.

He remembers her sitting with her back on him, entranced with the patrons bustling about instead of the painting themselves.

"You say you want to leave a mark." In her lilting voice, she began to explain when he asked. "There's your mark right there."

Etched in the faces of the older couple who with their cloudy eyes scrutinize his every stroke, of the little boy eyeing the big black wolf in wonder...

In his stomach coils a burning desire as she sat there surrounded by grandeur yet not one can eclipse her light. He should have kissed her then, at that moment, like how he should have had in that dusty library of her old home. In that bar after her first feed. Atop the Odessa. And when he went after her in Moscow and in seeing him, she smiled that most breathtaking smile.

Yes, he cares for her. _Profoundly._

She anchors him during blurs of rage and when times are bleak and the only sound he hears is his stepfather's words inside his head, she colors his days with her laughter and smile. She's his hiding place, his respite, amid the chaos that always seem to follow him and this... This is exactly why he never told her about Mikael. Why he felt safe hiding behind the excuse of the game, afraid to have her too close...

She's too beautiful to be tarnished by his demons. He wants to keep her, his untainted retreat. His _home-_

But he would destroy her. Mikael is right on that. He's bound to. With his siblings and with everyone else he can easily force his love with violence and fear but Caroline-

She's always too pure, too fragile and delicate. Too _breakable._

She's never one for darkness. It would kill her, losing her light.

Perhaps tomorrow, after Mikael and the doppelganger...

Yet today, he's better off alone.

Imperial but alone like a lone wolf.

* * *

He breaks the curse.

* * *

Miles away, a woman slips in a darkened alley, slinking away from the city lights and into the shadows.

News of the hybrid king and his army brought a shift of hierarchies and left the supernatural world on a divide: Those who'll bend and those who'll resist.

In the middle of it all, Caroline stands as another pawn in this power play.

Years before she's only an urban legend. A close companion to the originals known only by name and not by face. It's liberating in a sense-to travel the world without scrutiny and surveillance. After Chicago, she fell in love with the invisibility. With being ordinary.

But Mikael sought her and now wants her dead. Klaus wants her too. _The hybrid king wants her_ and every vampire in the world are clambering their way to be the one serving her on a silver platter.

She could all make this easier by going to Klaus herself. She could come back. But she shouldn't. Not now. Not after-

Nothing was the same again after St. Petersburg.

The moon keeps an eye on her every stride and she picks up her pace, heels clacking against the cobblestone, when suddenly she's not alone.

She puts up a good fight, killing three of her assailants easily but what is her eight hundred years to four vervain darts and a hybrid bite?

The blackness creeps in, her vision vignettes and in a split-second of fear and haze, she welcomes an old friend-

Death, it seems, is a more preferable end to this chase than the orchestrated tragedy awaiting their fate.

She wakes up in a memory.

It doesn't even take a second for her blue eyes to adjust to the familiar room and she feels at home with the smell of incense and sandalwood. But on the tip of her tongue lingers an acrid taste of goodbye.

"You're awake."

Klaus appears on the very same door she walked out on years ago. He looks the same even without the slicked-back hair and the signature white coat, still wears that same boyish smile as if they've never been apart.

Caroline sits up on the recliner. "What am I doing here?"

"That's the only greeting I get?"

There's an edge of bitterness in his voice and unconsciously she runs a hand on her neck, feeling for a wound that isn't there.

"It's okay. You're safe." He supplies at her confusion, voice falling to a gentle whisper. "My blood is the cure."

His revelation is met only with a derisive scoff-not precisely the kind of reaction he was expecting.

"So I'm supposed to thank you for healing me? After you've purposely sent your minions to bite me and kidnap me?"

"That was a grave error of judgment on my hybrid's part, sweetheart." He explains coolly, walking closer to where she sits. "And I assure you, he's rightfully penalized."

"Huh. How convenient." Is how she responds, accompanied by the roll of her eyes.

The girl's openly mocking him yet he learns couldn't do anything about it. It's been too long... since he saw her.

"I'm sorry." The words escape his lips before he could stop them and she gazes at him with surprise and a million other emotions dancing in her eyes.

And she let her defenses down, the first time since they started the conversation. She's been too still, too the leap from the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, the most honest person he knew in the past.

She feels drowning under the scrutiny of his eyes. There's something in the way he looks at her that grips and pulls so much it steals her breath. It's been too long since she's been alone with him.

Standing up, she steps toward the window where a table is pushed up against the wall. Atop of it lies a pile of sketchbooks-Klaus' evidently-but somehow they all seem new and unused.

"What do you want from me, Klaus?"

Her tone is not angry. It sounds tired. Defeated, almost, and it pains him to think of what those years apart has done to her. "If this is another one of your games, I don't want to play anymore."

There's a rush of wind and he's behind her in a second, hands on her shoulders turning her to face him.

"There is no game, Caroline. I want you back." He says.

He cages her gaze with his own although this game is a game he would never win. Her blue eyes-they always seem to know what parts of him to twist and turn.

"I want my family back." He adds then suddenly dropping his hold. "Rebekah's already waiting for you in Mystic Falls."

He doesn't tell her how the rest of his siblings are still daggered in a box but her face lights up even for a little while and that's all that matters.

"She personally called to tell me the good news: Mikael is dead."

"He's dead?" Caroline repeats with a voice an octave higher. Her eyes are bulging up like saucers on her face and Klaus is entirely baffled as to why that bit of information seems to shake her up. "A-are you sure?"

He only knows Mikael got to her once and he made sure he never gets close to her again. But the fear in her tone sets panic building inside of him. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"I shouldn't be here, Klaus." She murmurs again, arms wrapping around her form.

"I just got you back, love." Klaus grins through his frustration. "You know you already made it hard for us finding you the first time."

"Didn't you even think that maybe I never wanted to be found?" She snaps at him. "Oh right, you don't care about what I think."

Heart running a mile per second, she pushes past him and sinks down the couch. She knows she's pushing her luck with her stubbornness but he's just letting her. It's odd. It's frustrating. It's so much easier to get mad when he's mad. It's easier to hate him when he's lashing out and forcing his will in every turn. But he isn't. He's silent and cautious as if he weighs his every word utters and every step he takes. How he looks at her and how his eyes _scream_-

"I really hurt you, didn't I?" Klaus breathes the question so low she almost missed it.

His voice is raw and he's cut open. He's bleeding with every unrehearsed word that slips out of his tongue and they all fall in a puddle around her feet.

"It's not..." She begins to say with a deep huff of air. "It's not like that, Klaus. I _shouldn't _be here. It's not safe. Mikael... He..."

He is on her at once, on his knees-and look how he _bends_-onto the hardwood in front of this girl. "What did he do, Caroline?"

"He... He compelled me."

The silence that follows is almost deafening, punctuating her words, the weight of it bearing down on both of their shoulders. Neither one utters a sound and though they are staring at each other's eyes, their minds are miles away.

"I... It's just so stupid." Caroline speaks after a beat. " I mean, just the way he walked, I knew he was a vampire-an ancient one-but, as always, I just _had_ to play the helpful girl. But it was nice, you know, in the beginning. It's been too long since I've talked to someone older than me until..." Biting her lower lip, she casts her eyes down to her lap. "He started asking questions. I didn't say anything, Klaus, and the next thing I knew he was saying goodbye.

"It wasn't until later that I noticed the holes. No matter how hard I try to remember those last few moments, I feel something blocking me. That's when I knew." This time she beseeches his gaze. "I'm afraid, Klaus. I'm afraid of what I could do."

Her face is pale, her eyes are lost. He couldn't imagine what must those years felt like, living in constant fear. Knowing that someone else laid claim of your mind and at that any given moment, you could break and do something against your will. Even him and all his evil ways, he wouldn't wish that to anyone, even to his worst enemies.

With utmost gentleness, he holds out a hand to cup her trembling cheek and his heart swells then, when she let him.

"Everyday I feel like I'm only biding time, waiting for a tragedy to unfold. " Her breath comes in pants and tears pool on her eyes, speaking volumes as she stares at Klaus. She's casting her guard asunder, stacking down her walls and letting him in. He has missed this-being part of her world. "Once again I'm living on a deadline."

Her head fall on his shoulders, her fingers twists his shirt and in his chest, rumbles a steady beat.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

It gets louder and louder and it's everything else fades away and it's the only thing he could hear.

A thousand years ago, the sound was a welcomed friend. His father may despise him and his mother might not care for him but in most nights when he couldn't sleep and he lay alone in the darkness, his heart beat was his battle cry.

He's still here. He's fighting. He's _alive_.

Yet time and fate inflicted their scourge and his heart grew black as his monster eyes, cold as every corpse he left behind.

He had it buried under his centuries until that fateful day in a dusty old library when a girl with her sweet laugh reminded him of its beautiful sound.

Until now as she lies in his arms so warm and sweet and he wants nothing but to take away her pain and hide her away from the world.

You were right all along sweetheart.

He does have a heart.

He always did.

Battered and numbed, it beats in tiny and muffled notes. But it beats and it only beats for her.

"I could hurt you, Klaus." She cries then against his shirt and oh how she clings to him. "He could have compelled me-"

"Shh, love. I would have forgiven you. No matter what happens, I will always forgive you, Caroline." He strokes her hair, places his lips on he crown of her head. "Besides Mikael's dead. The compulsion should have been lifted."

"Are you sure?"

Pulling away, he meets her desperate gaze with his assuring one. "I will be. I'll go to Mystic Falls myself."

"I can't go with you."

"I know." Klaus nods. "Until we know for sure."

And for the first time Caroline lets a smile grace her face, tiny and restrained, but still a smile nonetheless.

"Thank you." She tells him.

The desire to close those few inches between them is almost unbearable and he quickly pushes it away. Standing abruptly, Klaus heads to the door.

Caroline watches him retreat. Once again he's folding in and walking away from her like those times before but then he speaks, his voice small but resounding.

"I'll come back for you." He says. He's looking far off but she can feel the intensity of his words. "Until then, you're safe here. "

* * *

**Don't freak out, that's not the end of it. THERE'S A PART 3. I just want to put this out here and I felt like I owe you guys an update. Please be patient! Tell me what you think!**


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